27 May 2010
6 c. bran cereal
2 c. water, boiling
1 c. oil
3 c. sugar
4 eggs, well beaten
1 quart buttermilk
3 c. raisins (optional)
5 c. flour
2 tsp. salt
5 tsp. baking soda
Mix 2 c. bran in boiling water, letting water absorb. Stir in oil. Mix remaining 4 c. bran with buttermilk and beaten eggs. Combine bran mixtures; add flour, soda, sugar, salt, and raisins. Store in airtight container in refrigerator until ready to cook. Keeps for 6 weeks in fridge. Bake in greased muffin tins for 20 min. at 400 degrees.
26 May 2010
25 May 2010
While I can see why the sufferer of an extended labor might envy her more precipitous counterpart…amply sufficient unto each birth are the pangs thereof, no?
Which is why I was at least a little annoyed when one acquaintance, upon hearing that I’d entered the hospital at 11:30 pm and produced a baby by 2:50 am, exclaimed, “Oh! That’s not so bad!”
Since I’m in a rather mischievous, if not wicked, mood, I’m curious to hear your nominations for Perturbing Postpartum Comments. It’s been awhile since we’ve done a best of the worst list, after all. [In fairness, we shall recall that postpartum is a time when nearly any comment can be ill-received, to the honest surprise of the well-meaning commenter.]
24 May 2010
Remote poo smelling, it's what I do. If you need me, you know where to find me.
22 May 2010
Given the preponderant significance of even the smallest of words, it is a serious thing that God has privileged Man with the naming of children. Adam received from God authority over all God gave him to name, for to name something is to wrap it in a single, declarative shell; to define its use; to brand it as your own. When man fell, he remarkably retained the privilege of naming; authority bestowed upon created things by our gracious God is not authority soon lost. The queen procured for Adam out of his own royal flesh was defined by her lord after the fall, and the blessing her name held stuck. "Eve" she was called, and "Eve" she remains.
Behold! Even we of the plebeian generations are yet authorized to name our children. And, whoopee! Naming babies is on the top ten of Great Things About Having Kids. I have a mental folder bursting with combinations of names that I hope to use someday: a little Grandpa mixed with a little patriarch mixed with a little venerated saint and—POOF!—a little description of a new little person. Ha, ha! The delicious sensation of power! :D
There was a time when I thought our name selections were so clever, but I’ve since noticed that we’re not at all unique. EVERYONE is going the way of grandpa and the patriarchs, and everyone else is going the other way, still very much together. (HT on the link: Cranach) But, so what? The more Marys we have the better. At the end of the day, I am ever humbled and amazed that my children, these remarkable people placed into my hands, respond to and are defined by the simple words my husband and I were entitled to place upon them when they were born.
And, of course, no naming post would be complete without a Baptism reference. Incredibly, for the sake of Christ, God so loves His elect that He bestows upon them His One True Name, thus wrapping them in a single, declarative shell, defining their use, branding them as his own. Eyes to the skies, friends, even while daydreaming up names for what babies may yet come. Names mean something, and they mean it endlessly. This is really good news.
18 May 2010
17 May 2010
15 May 2010
13 May 2010
12 May 2010
to have a newborn who doesn't pee vertically at every diaper change;
to have all this pink in the laundry!
and she's beautiful,
and I'm lost in the wonder of it all.
(But don't worry, I'm sure I'll be back later to bore you all with the details. The birth story compulsion, you know.)
11 May 2010
After supper, each child receives the opportunity to show off his or her work, and in this more ordered setting each child thus receives more focused and meaningful attention for his or her work. You know, when the stars align with Perfect World on the southern horizon, or something.
And now you know.
10 May 2010
07 May 2010
04 May 2010
03 May 2010
It's true that I don't really have a close mom friend here where we live. But I do have friends. As it happens, the ladies who keep the same hours I do are mostly retired, since most women my age work. So when my friends see to it that I get out of the house, which they are very kind in doing, they've got a generation on me. But they're still my friends, and we know what's going on in each others' lives. We don't "not count" because we're of different ages and places in life. In fact, that distance can make it easier since we're not all judging each other about who's going to go home and use formula or Pampers or Baby Einstein or conventionally cultivated kumquats whatever else is maternal contraband this month. They're past the need to take my weird life personally.
As nice as you girls all are, there's not one of you who stops by for a chat when I'm out hanging laundry, or can run over to listen for the napper when Dad gets called away on dentist day.
Not all parishes can roll this way; some are just too screwed up. But in a parish that isn't too screwed up, it's ok to have friends. We don't have to be BFF, but it's also doesn't benefit anyone for pastors' wives to think or act like they're not really part of life where they live merely by virtue of their being pastors' wives. Once again, we're not as special or important as they love telling us at those drag-your-wife-along meetings at the seminary. Support local business, eat local food, and, as the situation allows and to whatever extent is prudent, have local friends. And don't get discouraged too quickly. It takes time.
02 May 2010
HT: the guy who was going to name his kid the same thing we named our kid (they got a girl).